Tuesday, June 29, 2010

S. Ansky | THe Dybbuk | 1914

My dearest Khonnon,

When I speak to you, O Ghost, I want you to know me just as I have been forced to know you. I want my presence to be thrust upon you as yours has been upon mine. You hide behind the cloak of the unknowable mysteries of death, you lucky bastard, and poke at my weakest places, at my most vulnerable memories and you force me to feel.

Well, I want you to know that I am turning the table. I am going to invade the world of the dead and, as sure as a grave robber, I will thrust my will upon yours and make the dead dance and give up their secrets. I will no longer suffer you to use the mask of your invisibility. I will meet you on the level playing field of my imagination where we both will wear crowns of fire.

And I will fuck the dead moon into your eyes.

Jeremiah Lockwood